


The Cavern

by Rumpeltyltskyn



Category: Legend (TV 1995)
Genre: Banter, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Trapped, injured
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 01:11:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8777188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rumpeltyltskyn/pseuds/Rumpeltyltskyn
Summary: Ernest and Ramos take a little trip.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TekeoMiona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TekeoMiona/gifts).



"What do you think, Ramos? Looks like the Walter Brothers might've camped out around here recently."

Ernest brought the quadrovelocipede to a halt near a swath of rocky outcroppings. Ramos surveyed the area carefully for a moment before hopping out of the vehicle. Ernest followed quickly, pointing towards a blackened pile of wood. "Looks like a campfire," he suggested.

Ramos approached it, squatting beside it and probing the remnants with his hands. "Doesn't look fresh, could've been here for days, but I'm not sure with the rain we got last night," he commented, shaking his head slightly. He looked up, finding Ernest investigating not too far off, walking around and searching for other evidence. "Careful, Mr. Pratt," he warned, "There is known to be underground caverns in the area, the ground might give way."

Ernest looked up at him with a start, doing little to hide the surprise and panic on his face at the prospect. It quickly changed to mild irritation at the smirk he found pulling at the scientist's lips. "Very funny, Ramos."

With a grin, Ramos stood and made his way over to Ernest. "There really are caverns, though, Mr. Pratt. It would be wise if we watch our step," he said. Ernest nodded curtly. "Did you find anything?"

"Not really," Ernest sighed. "Any tracks they might've left probably got washed away last night."

Ramos nodded in agreement, casting his gaze once more around the area. "Wait, what's that?" he said as his eyes settled on something glinting closer to the outcropping.

Ernest followed his gaze and started towards the object, Ramos right after him. The writer got to it first, scooping up the object. "It's a knife," he said, turning it over in his hands.

"That's Theodor Walter's knife," Ramos asserted. "I recognize the carving on the handle," he explained, pointing to the initials etched into the wooden handle.

Ernest placed a hand on his shoulder with a big grin. "Well, Ramos, seeing as Mr. Walter tried to stab you with this yesterday, I think we've found evidence that he was here as recently as last night!" He began to take a step but Ramos grabbed him by the arm, pulling him to a stop. "Come now, Ramos! We have thieves to catch!"

"No, Mr. Pratt! Wait," he said, panic making its way into his voice. An audible crack interrupted whatever he was about to say, replaced with a colorful Spanish curse. "Don't move," he whispered, holding tight to Ernest's arm. 

"Was that-"

Before Ernest could finish his sentence, another crack sounded, this time louder and paired with the earth crumbling out from under their feet. He fell with a hard thud that knocked the wind out of him, leaving him coughing at the dust and dirt swirling around him. Blood rushed in his ears, almost deafening, and each cough caused a distinct twinge of discomfort in his side.

When he finally regained his senses, he was able to make out a pained voice uttering every Spanish swear Ernest had ever heard and more. He rolled onto his back and tried to sit up, but the discomfort in his side made him hesitate. His hand moved down his torso, bumping into a hard wooden handle sticking out right below the last rib.

_Wonderful. Nicodemus Legend's obituary is going to read 'fell down a hole and stabbed himself'. What a heroic way to go._

He sat up carefully, coughing still, one hand clutching the handle carefully. "Ramos," he said. He could only describe what he got in reply as a whimper. "Ramos, are you alright?"

"I... I think... my leg is broken, Mr. Pratt."

Ernest blinked through the slowly-clearing dust to see the scientist trying to sit up. The writer edged over to him, ignoring the pain it sent up in his side. "Stay still, let me help," Ernest insisted. 

Ramos let himself fall back onto his back, face contorted in pain as he stared up at the light coming up from the hole they fell through. "Are you hurt?" he asked in a strained voice.

His eyes glanced at the handle sticking out of his side. "I'm fine, don't worry about me. Is there anything I can do?"

Ramos took a breath. "I need to splint my leg," he bit out. "I need... sticks or something..." Ernest could see by the look on his face that the scientist was trying to focus through a considerable amount of pain. 

"Uhh..." Ernest looked around the cavern. Lots of dirt and rock had fallen down with them, but very little else. He managed to scrounge up two fallen branches. Moving back to Ramos's side, he helped him sit up carefully. "Will these do?"

Ramos looked at them and frowned but nodded. "They'll have to work. I need something to..." He trailed off as his gaze drifted down to Ernest's torso. His eyes fell on the writer's hand, still gripping the knife handle tightly. "Ernest..."

He offered Ramos a forced grin. "It's nothing. It doesn't even hurt. Let's deal with your leg first."

"That's more important, Ernest," Ramos said sternly, wincing as he shifted. He grabbed the sleeve of the shirt at its shoulder, tearing it away and ripping it into long shreds. He went to take the handle and Ernest moved away, out of his grasp.

"Ah! Ah! No way," he cried. "This is staying where it is for the time being."

Ramos glared at him. "I know what I'm doing. Where it is it probably hasn't hurt anything important, but leaving it in right now isn't a good idea," he explained.

Ernest looked more than apprehensive. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes, trust me, Ernest," Ramos said. The man nodded slowly, moving back within Ramos's reach. "I'm going to remove the blade, then you'll have to apply pressure to the wound, alright?" Ernest nodded again, though his doubts and worries were clear on his face. Ramos pressed the folded cloth into Ernest's hands before wrapping his own around the blade handle. "On the count of three. One, two-"

He pulled the knife out and Ernest let out a shocked yelp. "Where was the 'three', Ramos!" he demanded, quickly tearing open the hole in his bloodied shirt to reach through and press the impromptu compress against the wound. "Ack! That hurt less when the knife was in me!"

"It would've hurt worse if I'd waited for you to tense up on 'three'," Ramos said shortly, and Ernest noticed him grit his teeth as he shifted again. He tossed away the knife and retrieved the branches Ernest had found, setting the remaining strips of cloth next to them. He took another steadying breath. "I'm going to need your help with this. I need you to hold the splints on either side of my leg while I tie them in place," he explained carefully. 

Ramos moved the branches in place along both sides of his calf. Ernest struggled for a moment, trying to hold both in place with one hand, the other pressed firmly over the wound on his side. He gave up, dropping the compress. Ramos went to protest but Ernest stopped him, placing the sticks firmly with both hands. "Just tie them quickly."

Ramos's hands moved deftly to tie the cloth strips around his leg in three places. When he finished, he rested back on his palms, letting out a hiss of pain through his teeth. "That'll do for now. Hopefully the professor realizes we're missing soon."

Ernest scooped up the bloodied cloth and pressed it back against his side, wincing. They were silent for a while until he broke the silence with a chuckle that left Ramos staring at him in confusion. "Ernest?"

Ramos squinted his eyes. "Huh?"

"You called me, 'Ernest'," he said with a big grin. "What happened to 'Mr. Pratt'?"

Ramos blew out a puff of air, glancing away for a moment. "You've earned it."

"I've 'earned it'?" Ernest repeated. "Earned what? Getting called by my first name? Isn't that usually the other way around, Ramos?"

"You've earned my _friendship_ , Mr. Pratt," Ramos said when he finally looked back at Ernest. "It's not something I give away freely, but everything you have done for Janos and I-"

"No need to explain, Ramos," Ernest interrupted, his smile turning genuine as he reached out and clasped his free hand around his shoulder. "I understand. I'm honored to be counted as one of your friends."

Ramos hooked one of his hands around Ernest's extended arm. His fingers curled into the cloth of his sleeve, gripping so tight his knuckle turned white.

Ernest's face fell into a look of concern. "You're in a lot of pain, aren't you?" he asked. He got a quick nod. "Is there anything I can do?" Ramos shook his head sharply. "It is just your leg, right? You're not going to die on me, right?" He meant it as a joke, but it there was a tense air of truth behind it.

Ramos somewhat forced a laugh. "I'm not going to die. You know, assuming we aren't stuck here too long."

"Well, I'm afraid if I let anything happen to you, Janos will never forgive me," Ernest commented.

A smile pulling at the corner of his lips, Ramos shook his head again. "I don't know about that. He has a hard time holding grudges."

Ernest smirked. "Tell that to Thomas Edison," he said matter-of-factly.

It earned a genuine laugh from Ramos. "That's a good point. But the difference is, he has respect for _you_." He paused, taking on a smirk of his own. "Though, don't take that as an excuse to let anything happen to me."

"Of course!" Ernest said, feigning offense with his hand over his chest. "I would never allow further harm to come to such a good friend."

Ramos's gaze drifted to the place on Ernest's side where he still pressed the compress to his wound. "How are you doing?" he asked.

"Don't you worry about me, Ramos," Ernest said, a familiar lilt in his voice. "I'm fine. Nicodemus Legend has suffered far worse injuries."

"Regardless," Ramos said, "it wouldn't be good if we have to stay here long. Hopefully the professor realizes we are missing soon and finds us." He settled back on his palms, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. 

"I'm sure it won't be long," Ernest assured, stifling his own twinge of worry. "We were supposed to meet up in less than an hour." Ernest patted his shoulder and they lapsed into a long silence. He let his eyes drift around the cavern, silently looking for his own way to get out. There was something in Ramos's voice that bothered him, and Ernest wished he could get help instead of waiting. However, the steep walls and small hole in the ground above made that obviously impossible. He felt distinctly useless.

_Some Legend, hm?_

A pained groan pulled Ernest from his thoughts. His head whipped around to look at Ramos, who was folded over in pain and gripping frantically at the area above his splint. Ernest edged closer to him, placing his hand back on his shoulder. "Ramos! What's wrong?"

Ramos let out a shuttering breath, his eyes squeezed tight as he shook his head sharply. Ernest didn't miss the moistness glinting at the corners of his lids. "It just... hurts a lot..." A string of Spanish hissed under his breath. "And I can't really... feel my foot anymore."

Ernest's eyebrows jumped up. "What does that mean? That doesn't sound good."

"Either, a nerve is pinched by the bone, in which case... I'll be okay if we get out of here soon," he said, but paused.

"Or?" Ernest prompted.

"Or there is pressure on an artery, which is cutting off circulation to my foot," he finished, the worried edge in his voice overtaking the pain. "If that's the case... In a few hours there could be enough damage that I could loose my leg."

Ernest's heart jumped into his throat. Amputation was a terrifying prospect. With the risk of infection, such a surgery could be a death sentence-- and if he survived, his life would be unquestionably altered. "What can I do?" he asked without hesitation.

"If it's the artery," he started but paused, taking a deep breath, "you'll have to set the bone, to remove the pressure. Soon."

Ernest could feel the blood draining from his face at the prospect. "That'll hurt."

" _Solo un poco_ ," Ramos muttered, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Though Ernest couldn't wrap his mind around the meaning of the words at the moment, he caught his drift. "I'll explain to you what to do."

Ramos explained to him the procedure. Ernest would have to remove the splint and get a firm grip on his ankle. He would have to apply steadily increasing traction by pulling- not jerking- until the tightened muscles in Ramos's leg loosened and allowed the bone to slide into place. It could take several minutes.

But Ernest needed both hands for this. To keep the pressure on his own wound, he removed his belt, wrapping it around his waist and tightening it to keep the compress in place. Before he removed the splint, he reached into his vest and pulled out a flask, handing it to Ramos.

"A little something I keep for emergencies," he said when Ramos raised an eyebrow. "Almost forgot I had it, it's not much but maybe it'll take a bit of the edge off."

Ramos hesitated but downed the contents of the flask before handing it back to Ernest.

"Don't tell Janos," Ernest instructed in a playful tone, though it just masked his underlying nerves. He moved towards the bottom of leg, eyeing the splint. "You ready?" he asked, voice now serious.

Ramos settled back again, laying against the stone ground and nodding tensely. Ernest untied the cloth of the splint and removed the branches. When he wrapped his hands around the scientist's ankles he could feel him tense up at the touch, causing Ernest a hot rush of guilt. He uttered a quick, "Sorry," under his breath as he started lightly pulling the leg towards him.

A yelp of pain erupted from Ramos that broke off into a whimper. Ernest faltered for a moment but ultimately kept up the traction on his leg, steadily increasing the force of the pull. Ramos's cries increased likewise, culminating in a wail when Ernest felt a distinct shift in his leg that he assumed was the bone moving into position.

" _¡Basta!_ " Ramos cried, "Stop! Please! It's done!"

Ernest dropped his leg immediately, reapplying the splint as quickly and carefully as possible before returning to Ramos's side. The writer scooped up his hand without hesitation, letting Ramos squeeze his fingers almost painfully tight. Heart wrenching at the tear stains streaking Ramos face, Ernest wracked his brain for something to distract his friend.

_Come on, Pratt. When have you ever had trouble thinking of something to say?_

"I'm sorry," was all he could manage. Repeated, several times.

_Eloquent._

"No, no," Ramos finally said, shaking his head. "You did it right. It's good." He still gripped Ernest's hand a bit too tightly, and he sounded exhausted. "Just between us..."

"Yes?" Ernest pressed.

"I could use a bit more of that bourbon right about now," he said, swiping at his eyes.

Ernest couldn't hold back a small laugh. "Me too, Ramos. Me too." 

"Thank you, Ernest," Ramos breathed after a minute. The grip on his hand eased slightly. They fell into another long silence, but it was a long time before the pounding in Ernest's chest subsided to the point where he could hear his own thoughts. On a whim, the writer scrounged in his pockets to find pocket watch, flicking it open to see how long they had been trapped.

_Should've met Bartok over an hour ago. No doubt he's noticed we're missing by now. Hopefully-_

As if the thought had summoned him, a familiar, albeit far-off, voice drifted through the hole in the cavern's ceiling.

_Clairvoyant and telepathic? Eh, probably not._

"Ernest! Ramos!" Janos's voice grew clearer and Ernest felt a surge of relief. He gave Ramos a gentle nudge.

"Janos! Janos, we're down here!" Ernest called, his own voice echoing slightly off the walls.

"Ernest? What are you doing under the ground?"

Ernest rolled his eyes at the question, about to release some sarcastic remark but Ramos's voice interrupted him before he could speak.

"Be careful, Professor! The ground is unstable, if you get too close to the opening you might fall in as well," he warned.

There was a slight pause. "I see. Are you alright, Ramos?"

"I'm _fine_ , Janos," Ernest spoke up, "Just _fell on a knife and stabbed myself_. Thanks for asking!"

Ramos sighed. "My leg is broken, Professor," he informed, a weight to his words.

A soft, worried, "Oh, my," drifted down to them. A pause followed. "Don't worry! I have a plan! I will be back shortly!"

The two waited in silence, the minutes ticking away on Ernest's watch. After over twenty had passed, a bit of a shadow passed over the opening to the cavern. A long board, long enough for Ramos to sit with his leg outstretched, was suspended down into the hole. Ernest helped Ramos onto the board, hooking the straps around him before giving a strong tug on the rope to signal he was ready. His slow, steady ascent began as Ernest watched as best he could from the cavern floor.

It was another ten-or-so minutes before the rope returned for him. He strapped himself, internally thankful he would actually have safety devices in place for once while being suspended in the air. Giving the rope a quick tug like before, he began rising up towards the light and balloon above.

Half way up Ernest looked back, watching the hole grow smaller beneath him. It looked far more peaceful on this side. But then, most of his adventures started out that way-- peaceful and simple until he had a gun in his face.

Speaking of which... Ernest cast a skeptic glance toward the rapidly approaching balloon. _I wonder if Janos is going to make me turn this into a book._


End file.
